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He crouched. With a sob, she flung herself at him. His own eyes stung as she cried, her body shaking.
Damn Sonja, he thought viciously. How could she do this to her child?
Molly wiped her wet face on his shoulder and pulled back enough to whisper, “Is Mommy dead?”
“I don’t think so.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the paramedics working over Sonja. “Tell you what, why don’t you go get dressed and pack a bag. You’re going home with me. I’ll see how your mom is doing. Okay?”
She nodded, sniffled and retreated.
Nate returned to the living room just as the EMTs shifted Sonja onto the gurney.
“How is she?” he asked.
The woman glanced at him. “Still unconscious. Given the, er, odor, we took the liberty of checking the trash beneath the kitchen sink. It’s half-full with hard-liquor bottles. She dropped a glass—” she nodded toward a side table “—that seems to have held gin.”
He’d smelled it the minute he walked through the door. Sonja had loved martinis. Apparently, she’d quit bothering to add vermouth or an olive.
“As you can see, she vomited. It was lucky she was lying on her side. She could have choked on it.”
The man said, “Her breathing is irregular and slow, and she’s hypothermic. We need to take her in. She’ll likely be kept under observation overnight.” Expression sympathetic, he added, “You may want to tell your daughter she might have saved her mother’s life by calling you.”
“Thanks.” Nate looked at his unconscious ex-wife and shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”
Having a drinking problem was one thing, but boozing herself into a stupor when she was all Molly had? Had it ever occurred to her that she was scaring the shit out of her young daughter?
After watching the pair wheel Sonja out, Nate took the time to clean up the puke. Then he turned out lights, scooped Molly up and pulled her small suitcase with his free hand. He was past ready to take her home.
* * *
ANNA SAT AT the kitchen table, feeling numb. It was done. The house had finally sold—but for a price that would have left her still owing money on it if Alan hadn’t told her, firmly, that he had reduced his commission by one percent. According to his calculations, that would allow her to pay off the mortgage in full.
She had wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to do that, but instead had said shakily, “Thank you. You’ve worked so hard to sell my house, it’s not fair.”
“I’m glad to do it,” he’d said kindly, before gathering up his papers and departing.
Since the couple had been preapproved for a loan, Alan didn’t foresee any problems.
Alone now, Anna couldn’t even feel relief. Now she had to face all her other problems.
This past week, she had spent hours on the internet, applying for positions as a paraeducator, or teacher’s aide, at school districts in eastern Washington, Oregon and Idaho. Unfortunately, so far they all had a full roster, as she’d feared. A month into the school year had to be the worst time to apply. She’d had several responses, however, expressing interest in using her part-time or as a fill-in, and possibly as a substitute teacher, too.
She’d be rolling the dice when she chose where to go. The work could be steady—or not. There’d be no benefits. But she’d concluded this was her best route back to teaching. It would give her experience and references; with luck, she’d be liked enough to be hired as a teacher next fall in the same district. Somehow, she’d pick up other part-time work to put food on the table.
Possibilities so far included Moses Lake in eastern Washington, La Grande in eastern Oregon or Idaho Falls, Idaho. Idaho Falls sounded touristy enough to push rents up too high for her.
She didn’t have to decide today. Soon, though. And maybe she’d get more responses this week. This was only Monday. If she was lucky, one of those many school districts she had contacted would have a full-time aide quit unexpectedly.
She really ought to go over to Mrs. Schaub’s and fetch Jenna. Josh, of course, was in school. More than Jenna, he didn’t want to move, and she couldn’t blame him. If she could stay... But it was impossible. Rent anywhere on the Eastside would be far beyond her means, even if she found a similar patchwork of jobs here. She had faith he’d adjust. Josh had always been good at making friends.
Her phone rang, and she recognized the number immediately. The man just would not give up.
This time, she answered. “Mr. Kendrick, I’ve asked you to leave me alone.”
“Please. Will you listen to me?”
Surprised at what might have been a note of desperation in his voice, she sighed. “Yes, if it doesn’t take long. I need to get back to packing.”
Well, start packing, but he didn’t have to know that.
“You sold your house?”
“At last.” Her effort to sound pleased fell flat to her ears.
“The timing might be good.” Was he talking to himself?
“Mr. Kendrick?”
“I’m sorry. I, ah, have something of a problem.” He hesitated. “I’ll ask you not to repeat what I’m going to tell you.”
Was this a subterfuge on his part to get his way? She was curious enough, though, to say, “I promise.” Not like she’d be here to gossip even if she wanted to.
“My ex-wife has become an alcoholic,” he said bluntly. “I’ve been worried, but she seemed to drink primarily in the evening and didn’t go out. Saturday night, though, Molly called me because she couldn’t wake her mother up.”
Anna exclaimed, “Oh, poor Molly!”
“She was petrified. Turned out, Sonja was in a drunken stupor. I had to call medics, and she spent the night in the hospital. I insisted she enter a treatment program to have any hope of maintaining custody of Molly.”
“So Molly is with you?”
“That’s right. It’s been a challenge. I left late for work this morning, came home in time to meet her school bus. I should enroll her in that after-school program, but she begged me not to. She’s...fragile right now.”
“Couldn’t you...well, take some vacation?”
“A monthlong one?” He sounded incredulous. “No.”
“You could—” The words hire someone died. Duh. Why else had he called her? At last, he had a job to offer that fit her qualifications.
“I have an attached apartment meant for a housekeeper that has never been used,” he continued. “Would you consider moving in, even if only temporarily, to take care of Molly when I can’t be here?”
Of course, she should say, I’m sorry. No. Whether Sonja’s attempt to blame him for Kyle’s death was unfair or not—and Anna didn’t know enough to judge—she should keep her distance from this man.
But another thought crept in. With a month’s grace, Josh could finish the soccer season with his team. Have a little longer at school with his friends and a teacher Anna especially liked. Only...wouldn’t it be better for all of them to get the move over with, not put it off?
A temporary job like this would give her some breathing room.
“I don’t know,” she heard herself say. “Where do you live?”
“Just south of Meydenbauer Bay.”
Waterfront? She didn’t ask.
“I’ll pay you on top of providing housing,” he added.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The savings on not having to pay rent would be huge.” Was she seriously discussing this? “And given that you only need part-time help—”
“The apartment isn’t ideal,” he said with a hint of apology. “There’s only one bedroom, so it’ll be a squeeze for three of you.”
It will. Apparently, he had no doubt about her answer.
She’d have time to make the right decision about what they’d do next. And she felt for Molly, undergoing a second trauma on top of the first. Even before this happened, living with an alcoholic parent must have been scary.
Had kids talked after the disaster about how Mr. Kendrick was supposed to have been there, that if he had been, Josh’s dad wouldn’t have had to go in the water to save Molly? If so, Josh hadn’t said so.
She was still angry at Nate Kendrick. Even so... Anna sighed, ashamed to be succumbing so easily, but also aware of relief pouring through her veins. “You don’t even know me.”
“Molly likes you. She says you used to help out in her classroom.”
“I did, but is that enough of a reference?”
“The PI’s report was thorough.”
At the reminder, she came close to hanging up on the man. It was for Molly’s sake she didn’t—or so she told herself. “If I do this, will you be satisfied?” she asked. “Will you stop trying to give me money?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “I owe you too much. This isn’t about what happened. Molly needs you. I need you.” The growl in his voice told her that he didn’t like needing her. Or anyone?
He could hire someone else, of course, but trusting a stranger with your child wasn’t easy. He and she...weren’t quite strangers, even though she’d only met him face-to-face the once, if she didn’t count his appearance in the hospital elevator.
“Don’t you have family who can help?”
“My parents would come if I asked, but my father has health problems. I don’t want to lean on them right now.”
When she didn’t answer immediately, he apparently read her hesitation as resistance. “Do you and the kids still have health insurance?” he asked.
Low blow. She bit her lip. “No.” She hadn’t been able to afford to extend their coverage, which meant living in terror that one of the kids might get hurt or sick.
“My company provides insurance to employees. I’ll add the three of you on it while you’re working for me.”
He knew just how to undermine her stubbornness. It caved in. She might regret this, but she made the decision. “Okay. I’ll do it, with the understanding that it’s temporary.”
“Thank you,” he said huskily. He cleared his throat. “Can you come soon?”
“Is the apartment furnished?”
“No. I’ll pay to have your furniture moved here. We can put the rest into storage.”
A new bill, but she’d call all the nearby school districts right away in hopes one or several of them could use her as a substitute teacher and/or aide. And, thank goodness, living so close by, she could continue to take Jenna to Mrs. Schaub’s.
Thinking it through, she said, “I could come tomorrow with what we’ll need right away, as long as you don’t mind renting a truck twice. I’d have to come back here daytimes to pack everything that will go into storage.”
“Movers can do that for you.”
Oh, so tempting, but she needed to weed their possessions. “No, I’d rather do it.”
“Why don’t Molly and I pick you up this evening?” he suggested. “We could all go out for pizza, then we can show you the apartment so you have a better idea what you’ll need.”
Go out for pizza with a man she wanted to hate? It wasn’t too late to change her mind. Only...she remembered her first sight of a sopping wet redheaded girl sobbing her heart out.
She could be polite for the one evening. They wouldn’t have to see much of each other after this. She’d hand off childcare duties and retreat to the apartment. She and Molly’s father could leave each other notes, or he could call to let her know his schedule.
“Yes. Okay,” she said, even as she wondered why she felt as if she’d made a decision more momentous than it seemed.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHARING A BOOTH at the pizza parlor with Anna Grainger and her two kids felt surreal. She remained wary, at the very least, where he was concerned. Her answering the phone at all had felt like a miracle.
There was definitely a strain. He was too damned aware of what a beautiful woman she was. She didn’t want to meet his eyes, and did her best to keep the kids chattering to forestall any need to speak to him. On the other hand...she’d already accomplished another miracle. Molly was talking, too.
Although it might have been the four-year-old who’d engaged Molly. The girl was bold and determined nobody would hold out on her. When Molly hadn’t responded to her initial conversational forays, Jenna would say, “Huh, Molly? That’d be fun, wouldn’t it? Even Josh says it would. Right, Josh? Right, Molly?”
In fact, her high, sweet voice filled any silence, which was fine by Nate. Josh and Molly started shy with each other, but once Jenna broke the ice, they, too, argued about TV shows and movies and whether this pizza was as good as the pizza at Pagliacci. The more gourmet places were not on her kids’ radar any more than they were on Molly’s. She liked plain cheese. As it turned out, Jenna concurred. The three kids shared one pie, with pepperoni on half of it for Josh. Nate and Anna agreed on a slightly more sophisticated choice, with mozzarella, Asiago, fresh chopped basil, garlic and sliced tomatoes. They ate salads, too. She didn’t bother asking her kids if they wanted one. When he did ask Molly, she said, “No, thank you, Daddy,” in that irritatingly polite way she had of keeping him at a distance.
Josh grumbled that frozen pizzas were never this good. Then he said, “We haven’t been here for a long time. Mom wouldn’t—”
She cut in, her tone light. “Mom abused you with home-cooked meals. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, but—”
Somehow she diverted him, but Nate noticed her cheeks had warmed.
He had to grit his teeth to keep himself from saying something. He didn’t like the reminder that she’d turned down help from him even as she had to worry about every penny. It also hadn’t escaped his notice that she had lost weight.
“Pizza’s good,” he commented, waiting until she reluctantly glanced at him.
“Yes, it is. Thank you for suggesting this.”
“Tell me about the house sale,” he said, wanting to hold on to her attention now that he had it. “Do you have any idea when you can close?”
Josh pantomimed slamming something onto the table, and Molly and Jenna giggled. Hearing that giggle, Nate felt lighter. The pizza didn’t seem to be aggravating his stomach problems, either.
“No. The buyers need financing, so even though they were preapproved, we have to wait while the loan request goes through. Alan—my agent—thought about a month.”
“Are you ending up in the hole?”
She leveled a stare at him. “I can’t believe you asked that.”
“I’m a pushy guy.” She didn’t appear to see persistence as the virtue he did.
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny about that?”
“A private thought.”
“You mean, you do understand the concept of privacy?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I do. I just figure it never hurts to ask.”
“It doesn’t hurt you,” Anna said very quietly.
Sobering, he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Seeing the deliberate way she turned a shoulder to him and joined the kids’ conversation again, he realized he’d stepped in it. Damn it, why had he thought she’d answer a question like that? He rarely surrendered to impulse.
He tuned in to hear Anna asking Molly about her teacher. Josh didn’t seem to be reacting negatively to seeing Molly again, so enrolling her in her old school here in Bellevue shouldn’t be a problem.
Or, hey, Josh and Molly might be as good at hiding what they were really thinking as the two adults were.
They boxed up what pizza was left and took it with them, returning to their two cars. Hers looked even shabbier beside his Lexus.
“Stick close,” he reminded Anna, after being sure Molly was belted in properly.
She was still strapping her own wriggling daughter into the back seat. “With the address, I imagine I could find it.”
He dragged his gaze from her shapely rear end. “It’s tricky knowing which driveway is ours.”
“Fine.”
Pulling out of the parking lot, Nate kept an eye on the rearview mirror. It took him a few blocks to notice that Molly hadn’t said a word.
“You like Josh and Jenna?” he asked.
Anna’s old car was hanging close behind.
“Yes, only—” Molly screwed up her face. “It’s my fault their daddy is gone, so why aren’t they mad?”
Hating the agony he heard in her voice, Nate said, “Maybe they know it’s not your fault. We talked about this.”
“Yes, but...” She bent her head, hiding her expression.
He waited, to no avail. “Anna doesn’t blame you, either, or she wouldn’t have agreed to come live with us until your mom is better and ready to take you back.”
No comment. He hadn’t a clue what Molly thought about her mother’s absence. Living with an alcoholic parent couldn’t be easy at any age. Was she relieved? Desperate for Mommy to take her home? Or justifiably afraid Mommy wouldn’t be better, after all?
Nate made the turn onto Shoreland Drive, satisfied to see Anna still right behind. The private lane wasn’t well marked. At the end, it split into three driveways, his being the right-hand one. The view of the lake opened, and he tapped the remote control to access the garage, driving straight in. Anna parked where she’d have room to make a tight U-turn when it came time to leave.
He got out, circling to help Molly if she needed it, which she didn’t. Anna’s kids huddled close to their mother as they stared at his house, eyes wide.
“Somehow I knew you’d have lakefront,” Anna said drily, her hands resting on her children’s shoulders in reassurance.
Feeling defensive, Nate said, “This isn’t as luxurious as some of the waterfront homes in Medina or Hunts Point.”
“You mean, your house isn’t forty thousand square feet, like Bill Gates’s supposedly is?”
“No, it definitely isn’t.” He tried for a little humor. “I don’t want to get lost in the middle of the night trying to find the bathroom.”
Nobody laughed. The funny part, Nate thought, was that, once upon a time, Sonja had wanted to move. Plenty of celebrities called Yarrow Point or Hunts Point home. She liked the idea of living next to a star pitcher for the Mariners or a big shot in the software world. “You could afford it,” she used to complain. Yes, he could, but he liked where he lived, or had until he lost his family. It was just as well he hadn’t let her wear him down, or he’d be rattling around in an even bigger house now.
“Ah...come on in. We’ll give you the grand tour.”
Her kids moved in step with her when they followed. His Mediterranean style house clearly intimidated them, even though he didn’t consider it ostentatious. The cream-colored stucco exterior was accented by a red-tile roof. Broad, double doors in a dark, carved wood gave an aged feel. Inside, light poured through the vast windows looking out on Lake Washington. The decor was simple—hardwood floors, scattered rugs, leather and brocade upholstered furniture, wood furniture mostly cherry in a modified mission style with clean lines. He’d bought some art he liked for the walls, since Sonja had taken what she considered hers. He’d erased most of the fussier accents that had her stamp, too.
“This is...really nice,” Anna said in a stifled voice.
“Thank you.” He showed her the family room, which was nearest to the front door but having French doors that could be closed to contain noise, then led her to the kitchen, open to the living and dining areas. He didn’t use the room designed to be a home office on this level, preferring one upstairs that had a lake view. There were empty bedrooms upstairs, too. He kept those doors closed to keep the house from feeling any lonelier than it already did.
The tour continued upstairs to Molly’s bedroom. Anna’s discomfiture hadn’t abated, and neither had her kids’. Even Jenna had been struck silent, which he had the impression wasn’t a natural state for her.
Nate’s bedroom was just beyond Molly’s, the door standing open. He saw Anna sneak a peek, and was glad she couldn’t see much from this angle. He surely didn’t want to picture her in his bedroom. Her presence in the house unsettled him enough already, in part because he hadn’t managed to squelch images of her not only in his room, but also in his bed. However, most of his discomfiture was the result of him trying to see his home through her eyes. His guilt revved into a higher gear.
Did she feel like the beggar maid, brought to the palace by King Cophetua? Nice thought. If he’d made a different choice, Anna would still have a husband and her own house.
Assuming, of course, he had made a difference in the day’s outcome instead of paying more attention to texts and emails coming in on his phone than he did to his daughter.
He and Sonja hadn’t split because of his dedication to his job—but it had played a part. Remembering what she’d said about wanting a life still stung, even though he knew damn well she wouldn’t have been happy if he’d decided he could cut back on work and brought home a lower income.
Jenna broke the silence. “I like your bedroom.” Still in the hall, peering into Molly’s room, she sounded wistful. “Can I play with your Barbie house?”
Nate wasn’t sure Molly ever did.
His daughter hesitated. “It’s okay if you’re careful with my stuff.”
“There’s no reason Jenna would be playing in here when she isn’t with you,” Anna said firmly. “Your dad said we’d have our own apartment.”
Molly’s eyes darted to Anna. “But we can play together when I get home from school, can’t we?”
Anna smiled. “Sure.”
“Speaking of the apartment...” he said, sounding like an overenthusiastic tour guide.
Jenna gave a final, lingering look into a pink-and-purple bedroom that was stocked with entirely too many toys. Many Molly had left behind when she moved out with Sonja. He doubted she’d ever touched a lot of the dolls and stuffed animals.
Had he satisfied himself with the notion that if he bought her everything a little girl could want, she wouldn’t notice that Daddy was hardly ever around?
Only one of many uncomfortable realizations he’d been hit with since Molly had come so close to dying.
He wished now he didn’t have to show the Graingers where they’d be staying. The contrast was too stark.
* * *
THE APARTMENT WASN’T BIG, but Anna had sighed in relief when she saw it. It felt...snug. Like a cocoon, a refuge.
Once home, she worked for hours that evening after tucking in Josh and Jenna. She moved room to room, deciding what they’d need and hastily packing it. She’d do the kids’ bedrooms tomorrow morning after getting Josh off to school. Tonight she whizzed through the kitchen first, boxing up the necessities except for what they’d use for breakfast. She tagged bright pink sticky notes onto the furniture she thought would fit into the apartment over the three-car garage on Nate’s estate. That’s all she could think to call a home that should have been in a magazine.
The apartment could be accessed from the outside, but also had a staircase that opened in the main house by the kitchen. Servants stairs, only not as steep and narrow as she knew they’d been in eighteenth-and nineteenth-century homes. Same principle, though.
Currently working in the dining room, she tossed two sets of place mats into a box, but left everything else in the buffet to go to storage. Or get rid of. When had she last used the set of eight crystal goblets that had been a wedding gift?
Her bedroom didn’t take long, either. Everything that had been on the closet shelf was already packed in totes piled in the garage. She retrieved suitcases from the garage and filled the big one with her clothes and shoes. The medium-sized suitcase should handle a basic wardrobe for Josh—his sports stuff could go in the duffel—and Jenna had her own small pink rolling suitcase.
Both of them would want some of their toys, games and books, but they wouldn’t need all. Especially books—they’d visit the library more often.
In front of her dresser, she sank to her butt in sudden exhaustion and leaned against her bed. This was crazy. Why had she agreed to do it?
She looked around her bedroom, both familiar and, weirdly, not. Kyle’s half of the closet was already empty, as was his dresser. During the sleepless night after her discovery that he’d cashed out the life-insurance policy, she’d grabbed garbage bags and gone through all his stuff. She’d dropped most of it at a thrift store the very next day. Part of her was grateful for the anger that had carried her through such a horrible task. She’d packed a single box of his things that she or one of the kids might someday want, including a few shirts that had evoked him so vividly she had pressed the soft fabric to her face and cried.